


Flag and Stone

by ChildrenOfSatan, Hustler, veat



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Grief, M/M, Military, Minor Character Death, Mourning, Not a death fic, So don't worry, War, background death, this is a fic about hardcore mourning, trust us, we're not fucking around tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6203263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChildrenOfSatan/pseuds/ChildrenOfSatan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hustler/pseuds/Hustler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/veat/pseuds/veat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though Rick and Daryl had been together for almost a decade, Daryl's occupation was always around the corner to remind Rick that Daryl wasn't entirely his. His duty always came first. Even at the cost of the most grave sacrifices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue : It all seems to fit the frame

**Author's Note:**

> We have been writing this since June 2015 :D most of it is written, and we plan to update regularly. ENJOY!
> 
> This fic is intentionally written with a Hollywood perspective of Military protocol and life. No disrespect intended.

The air was crisp, smelling faintly of cloves and sun-warmed flowers. An unmistakable musk laced the sweet scent, farmland nearby. Cicadas and crickets overlapped one another and the nocturnal wildlife began to join in with their own familiar calls.

Daryl at his side and the permanent space between them they habitually made room for. Though Carl spent half his time with Lori they subconsciously carried on as if he were there with them. It was one of the many things Rick loved about Daryl. Carl was just as important to him as he was to Rick.

The setting sun draped the field around them in gold. The color brought out an ethereal glow in Daryl’s eyes and highlighted his freckles and lines. He looked as handsome as the day they met, almost eight years ago.

“Is that Jasmine?” Rick asked, placing his hand on Daryl’s shoulder to get his attention.

Daryl snorted and shook his head fondly. “You think everything smells like Jasmine. Is that the only flower you know?”

Rick looked up in mock-rumination. “Dandelions?” He offered.

Daryl rolled his eyes and kept walking. “That’s a weed, Rick.”

“Looks like a flower,” Rick muttered under his breath.

“Could have said roses. Would have thought you bought Lori some of those a few times.”

Rick nodded. “Even I know there aren’t any rose bushes out here. She liked Orchids best,” Rick smiled sheepishly then, “don’t know why I didn’t think of those.”

“You’re quite the romantic, Rick. ‘see why Lori dumped your ass.”

Rick shoved Daryl aside with his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, I’m a very thoughtful husband. I only forgot our anniversary twice and my own birthday dinner once.”

Daryl snickered quietly to himself and shoved Rick back. “Remind me to get Lori something she deserves. Poor woman shouldn’t have had to put up with you.”

Rick patted him sympathetically. “Yeah, well, now you’re stuck with me.”

Daryl let out a long suffering sigh, “You’re lucky I don’t know what month it is most of the time.”

“So, what flower is it?” Rick asked picking up their earlier conversation.

“Cherokee Rose.” Daryl answered without a pause.

They continued walking over the vast field in comfortable silence until they reached a small hill. A soft breeze greeted them when they made it to the top. It rustled through their clothes and gently soothed their bodies.

“What a view, look at that,” Daryl suddenly commented beside him, biting his lip and placing both hands on his hips. Rick followed his gaze until he saw what Daryl was referring to.

The sky reminded Rick of a canvas -Van Gogh like- with brushstrokes of different shades of blue and orange. Warm and cold colors coexisting in perfect balance above them.

From their spot on the hill they could see the field around their house, the forest being their closest neighbor. The contrast between the green and gold field and the bright white house was something that never failed to captivate Rick.

When they made it to the house the sky had fused into a deep blue with long strokes of dark pink, wildflowers leading the way back home.

Rick and Daryl jumped over the steps into their house with ease landing quietly and without a single creak. Rick looked at Daryl out of the corner of his eye and Daryl looked back nodding once. Carefully, Rick inserted their house key into the lock and turned it as slowly as he could, muffling the click of the lock releasing.

Daryl looked back at Rick giving him a signal and then Rick opened the door as silently as he could. Daryl took a bold step forward and quickly set out his arm. Not so long ago, a blur of Carl would wrap around Daryl’s arm prematurely and end up in an efficient, but harmless hold.  

All the lights were off in the house, twilight lingering about, making it hard to distinguish furniture from walls and a possible body. Shadows at the corner of their peripheral vision stretched and disappeared, making their skin prickle with the fear that they had given their backs to him instead of a random chair.

As of yet, Carl hadn’t been able to sneak up on Daryl, but it was only a matter of time. With the training he had received from Daryl and from Rick, Carl had picked up more than few tricks.

A floorboard groaned at the bottom of their stairs, but Daryl knew from years of living in their house that the night air swooping in from underneath their backdoor, always set off the old wood in the house. He stopped Rick from focusing on that corner of the house and redirected his focus towards the kitchen.

Rick entered the kitchen wary of the dining table on the other side. The air was too still underneath the darkness of the table. Daryl agreed and without a look or a sign he let Rick know he was on the same page. Rick pretended to inspect the kitchen while Daryl faked going to the hall closet. Rick then began to slowly make his way to the entryway of the dining room.

But something was wrong. A momentary tremor went down his back and he turned suddenly and collided with Carl’s lithe body. Carl expertly threw off Rick’s balance and then brought him down with a flying armbar. Boots were suddenly coming towards them and Carl sprang up from him, darting up the stairs.

Rick heard a squawk and then a thump.

“Dammit!” Carl yelled.

Rick jogged up the stairs to see Carl face flat on the floor with Daryl holding him down by his pinkie. Rick laughed and Daryl let him go. Rick bent down to pull him up and then Carl suddenly dropped his weight and threw Rick right into Daryl, knocking them both down and ran down the stairs laughing obnoxiously.

“I win!”

“Fuck. Your fucking kid is gonna be unstoppable, man,” Daryl said, panting slightly.

Rick lazily threw an arm at Daryl. “That’s _your_ fucking kid. I had a sweet boy and then some army dog came in and replaced him with a government weapon.”

Rick watched the proudest smile break across Daryl’s face and he discovered he could love the man even more.

* * *

“What are we having for dinner?” Rick asked.

Daryl looked over at the kitchen lazily and made a half-assed attempt at opening their fridge. He managed to pull it open and then leaned on the door, limbs sprawled and anything but military standard. Rick couldn’t help but snicker quietly to himself at the sight. Daryl was quite possibly the most dangerous man in Georgia, but sometimes it was hard to see anything more than _his_ Daryl.

His Daryl threw sheets over himself on his birthday, knowing people were waiting downstairs for him. He could stare wolves down when they went camping, but always forgot to check for poison oak when he bedded down and whined about it all day the next day.

“Anything good?” Carl asked, sticking his head underneath Daryl’s armpit trying to look inside.

Daryl squeezed down and Carl shouted suddenly realizing his mistake. Daryl let up quickly and stared at the fridge longingly.

“You know what I could really go for?” Carl asked, turning away from the fridge, looking up at Daryl.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“Catfish,” Carl answered with a wolfish smile.

Daryl smirked and closed the fridge keeping his arm around Carl’s shoulders. Together they turned around and faced Rick.   

“Catfish? At this time of night?” Rick asked, knowing they didn’t mean to buy it. No. His son and Daryl discovered long ago that they were the best catfishing team this side of Georgia.

Rick stared up at two mischievous faces and knew he couldn’t say a damn thing to change their minds.

“C’mon, dad.”

* * *

Spices and fish permeated the cold night air. Fire glowed and danced on their satisfied faces as they consumed their dinner. They were all covered in mud and guck, but they didn’t give a damn. They sat side by side, stars and fireflies above their heads. Somehow, Rick was lucky enough that this sort of night wasn’t rare. This was their favorite spot, grasses and riverbank worn through their use.

Carl dropped his head against Rick’s shoulder and Rick immediately leaned down, letting Carl get comfortable against him. As always, Daryl ended up with Carl’s feet resting over his own legs. Rick watched with a smile as Daryl absent mindedly rested a hand over Carl’s boots, hands moving over them in that restless way of his.

“All we need now are some biscuits stuffed with cheese,” Carl said into the quiet.

Daryl laughed and looked at Carl from the corner of his eye, “No chocolate pudding?”  

Carl looked pensive for a moment then gave a very mature sounding, “Yeah.”

Rick was about to say something when Daryl’s military phone went off. The very sound of it reminding him that Daryl wasn’t completely theirs. He didn’t mean to, but he could feel the tranquility drain out of his face. He wasn’t being fair, he was bound to his job as well. The real loss was felt by Carl.

Daryl reached for his phone, a subtle seriousness to his peculiar eyes, then they regained their mischievous glint when he saw his screen.

“It’s Martinez and the squad, they want to face time,” he said.

“Answer it!” Carl yelled, moving away from Rick and draping himself over Daryl, trying to get to the phone.

Daryl chuckled and looked back at Rick. Rick smiled and scooted over closer to them.


	2. The melody is over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready y'all it all goes down.

Autumn was probably his favorite season, with the cold breeze on sunny afternoons, shades of orange and red blanketing the forest ground and sides of roads. The trees naked, skeletal looking, rid of all their dead leaves.  

Rick couldn’t help but smile, Daryl always said that Spring was the best season of the year. He’d go on and on about well-fed game, and the light of the moon in Georgia being best during that time, but Rick knew better. Daryl’s head always turned towards the fields of wildflowers when they drove down quiet roads. He would run his hands and the tips of his fingers over any flower he could reach on their walks, when he thought Rick wasn’t looking. It gave Rick ideas.

One Spring he picked a few wild flowers and put them in a vase on the nightstand by Daryl’s side of the bed. Daryl didn’t say anything but he didn’t need to. Rick felt it deep and instantly the moment Daryl saw them. Rick spent the rest of the day with a stupid, smug smile on his face and Daryl didn’t come up with a single smartass remark.

He’d been plotting his next surprise since Autumn had started but it was hard to come up with anything with Daryl was on the other side of the world.

It was a Wednesday and the day had dragged on with Shane filling his ears about the new woman at the station. All Rick could do was nod and smile while thinking about getting home and checking the mail with hopes of finding a letter from Daryl hidden between bills and junk mail. It’d been too long since he last heard from him. He couldn’t wait to finally get another letter, to read anything at all about him.

Rick turned up the radio as a familiar song came on and started tapping on the steering wheel as the guitar strummed the beginning of the hook. He smiled when Daryl’s first issued dog tags started to swing from the rearview mirror. They flashed bright into his eyes with each dip and divot on the road, every once in awhile he’d catch Daryl’s name.

He couldn’t help singing along with the music and before long he was drumming against the steering wheel. He turned it up louder and everything started rattling in the truck, the change in the ashtray, and the empty bottle of Gatorade they never threw out.

There was a letter waiting for him. He could feel it.

The song was over when he finally pulled onto the driveway. He rolled up every window before climbing out of Daryl’s truck and headed to the porch. He damn near broke open the mailbox in his excitement.

With his mail finally in his hands he decided to wait until he was inside. He wanted to savor the letter. He didn’t want to wait another excruciating amount of time before hearing from Daryl. For now, it was like their conversation was suspended in time, like Daryl walked into another room while they were talking about something. Maybe changing out of his clothes after working on his bike, leaving oil-stained piles on their bathroom floor.

He sat down at their breakfast table and forced himself to calmly look through the mail. Bills. Bills. Advertisement. Junk. Bills. Invitation to someone’s something. Bills

Their address in Daryl’s scraggly writing. A letter from Daryl.

Rick felt stupid smiling at a yellowish piece of paper in his hands like it was Daryl himself standing in front of him. It’d been almost a year since the last time Rick had see him. He got up and sat on the couch in the living room with a heavy sigh, hands shaking with anticipation as he opened the letter carefully, smiling widely again when he could read the first words written with Daryl’s characteristic handwriting.

 

_7/12/15_

_I need a drink. I’ve been dying for some good whiskey for months now. You’re taking me to a bar as soon as I get back. First round’s on you._

_Nine months now. How’s Carl? We’re going to have to get him his own crossbow soon with the way he’s growing. I’m still trying to find out when I’ll be allowed to use skype or whatever. Stupid classified bullshit. Is he still having trouble with his essays? How’d he do on that math test? Poor kid, those tests are brutal. When we were in school they didn’t have us doing half that shit._

_Tell him everyone says hi and that I got him something. I showed everyone that picture he sent me of the catfish he caught. Everyone got hungry and pissed at me. The food here is shit, man. The local stuff is great, but we only get to eat that on special occasions. They don’t really want us to interact much unless we have to. I had a dream the other night about that BBQ we had before I left. It’s hell waking up thinking I’m eating one of those juicy burgers and tasting nothing but air. Fucking torture. Not as bad as the goddamn rank of your feet but pretty damn close._

_You know what? I’d smell your rancid feet any day for one of your burgers. I need to stop thinking and writing about food, it’s pissing me off. You’ve spoiled me, I was never like this before. Fuck you, Rick Grimes._

_I miss you._

_The squad's doing great. Bunch of useless assholes except for Sasha, but they’re the best useless assholes I’ve ever had to work with. Can’t say much, but so far I got no complaints with my new assignments. Good decent work. Learning a lot of new things. Martinez is a hit with the locals. Tyreese is bulking up like crazy. Dude was a monster before, but now...he looks like one of Carl’s old action figures. Sasha’s getting there too. Her arms are looking better than mine! Noah’s a little homesick. Just turned nineteen a few days ago. Remember the cake I made Carl for his 8th birthday? I tried making him one of those. I didn’t have half the ingredients. Tasted like sawdust, but he ate the whole thing. He cried._

_They’re calling for me. I don’t know when I’ll be able to write another letter. Work’s getting a little more complicated. I miss you both. Say hi to Lori for me. Give Shane a kick in the ass and if you see Merle, I’m not counting on it, tell him to lay off his shit._

 

_Love you, Rick._

_-Daryl_

 

Rick’s chest tightened and swelled with Daryl’s love. The ever present pain of not having him safe and home hit him hard, right on cue. His smile turned bittersweet, eyes filling with conflicted tears. He stared at the open letter on his lap, arms wrapped around his middle. He shook his head slightly reading the last paragraph a second time, carefully going over the _“I love you”_ in Daryl’s handwriting until he could vividly see the words when he closed his eyes.

Three knocks on his door broke the serenity and quietness of the house and suddenly pulled him out of the bubble he’d fallen into after opening Daryl’s letter. Sighing, Rick placed the letter on the table in front of him as he stood from the chair and headed to the door.

Two men were standing on his front porch with Type A’s.

Rick felt a cold layer of sweat cover his back, his stomach dropped, the ground pushed up against his feet making his knees bend. He didn’t remember when he opened the door or what he said, only that he was suddenly staring at men he never wanted to see.

“Is he hurt?” He asked, holding tightly onto the door frame to keep himself from falling. He didn’t want to ask the other question...the question he should be asking.  

“Is there anyone else home with you?” One of them asked.

“Is he hurt?” Rick asked, louder, breaking, struggling to keep the other question from coming out of his mouth.  

The shorter man flinched back and Rick saw him break, sympathy flashing through his eyes and Rick knew it was over.

“Sir, do you have anyone with you?”

Rick punched the frame to keep himself from remembering Daryl’s voice.

 

_…protocol...not supposed to leave someone alone...can you imagine..._

 

“No!” Rick shouted at the voice and the man, “It’s just me. Answer me, is he hurt?”

“Sir, is there someone that could be with you, right now?”

“Just tell me!”

_Daryl held the packet in his hands and took a deep breath, “Aaron told me he had to do it once.”_

“We’ll let you know, as soon as you give us a number for someone that can come over.”

Rick stared them down, eyes flickering hard between the two men. Their stoic and grave faces gave no weakness away. His heart was pounding. He swallowed and barked out a number, fast without repeating it. The men looked between each other.

“Sir, the department of…”

Because he was some sort of fucked up masochist Daryl’s voice joined in, _regrets to inform you…_  

_…_  

“ _We were unable to locate a body_.”

Rick didn’t know how long he’d been sitting on his couch. When he finally looked up, Daryl’s letter was still open over the table with words and promises that would remain unfulfilled.

Something light and vaguely familiar was wrapped around him. He moved slightly and it stayed on him and then moved.

“Rick?”

Rick slowly turned to the voice to his right near his shoulder. Lori.

Lori’s beautiful eyes were swollen and wet, staring at him like the night Carl fought against a bad case of pneumonia. He looked down and realized it was her arms that were wrapped around him.

He looked around the room noting the men were gone. Everything was registering slowly. It wasn’t that he forgot. He remembered everything like an immaculately written incident report. It felt like two realities were finally trying to merge together. Rick gently pulled Lori’s arms away and slowly lifted himself from the couch. She followed him instantly.

“Rick?”

He reached for Daryl’s letter and heard Lori take in a sharp breath. Carefully, Rick folded the letter up and put it back into the envelope it was sealed in.

“Rick?” Lori asked again.

“I’m going to put this by the kitchen for when Carl wants to read it. It’ll get lost or damaged just sitting out here.”

“Sure.” Lori said softly and sat back down.

_We were unable to locate a body._


	3. Love me when I'm gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bring tissues.

He opened the car door and a distant drumming could be heard, music, part of the ceremony he vaguely rationalized. There were families amongst nearby headstones already mourning their own loved ones. Some of the headstones looked worn and faded, others clean and mockingly bold.

The ground was uneven, jostling his weight shakily, but Rick made sure to walk in between the graves. His dress shoes couldn’t find purchase on the wet grass and the people around him weren’t doing much better either. People continued to arrive in the long line of cars, struggling once they stepped off the graveled road and onto the grass. Everyone was looking at him even if they were pretending to give him privacy.

Flushed faces, swollen eyes, stoic mouths, shuddering shoulders. Black everywhere. Fingers wiping away tears, holding onto others, holding umbrellas. 

Rows of white chairs bright against the grass awaited them, facing the coffin. Someone led him to the front when he reached the chairs. Merle was suddenly there, being ushered next to him. Rick thanked the person but stayed standing as he knew people would continue to approach him, saying things he didn’t really hear. They did. Lots of faces and seeking eyes, grabbing his hands and pressing their bodies against his. Some braved talking to Merle, but the man was shut off in a way Rick had never seen before.

A loud silence began to grow in his head and he found he couldn’t’ open his mouth to greet another person. The coffin was right there -flag draped over it- and he could keep talking to other people, but it wasn’t going to make it go away. He was supposed to cry, right? That’s what anybody would do, what everyone was sure he’d do.

An angry heat started spreading under the skin on his face. The silence was growing louder, drowning out the rain and the people walking through the wet grass, whispering to each other. The heat kept spreading and his body was shaking with the intensity of it. He looked back at Merle, he was looking at the coffin now. His eyes were wide, lines deep and haunting. Rick vaguely registered it was fear he was seeing in the man’s face and then it flickered away, but Merle couldn’t stop staring at the coffin.

Daryl was supposed to be in there. But he wasn’t. Rick looked at the corners, thinking if he stared long enough he’d feel it. He’d feel Daryl was in there and he could cry like everyone expected him to. A small hand found his and Rick looked down to see Carl looking up at him. He’d been crying, eyes still glistening. Carl looked at the coffin with big eyes and a very grown up determination. Death looked intimidating through Carl’s eyes. It looked like failure through Merle’s, Rick realized.

He wondered what it looked like in his eyes.

The heat was still there and he could suddenly feel how it was squeezing his head and the ridiculous flowers by the coffin weren’t helping. Daryl would have never liked them, they were too fancy and extravagant. He wouldn’t have wanted none of this fuss anyway, but he sure as hell wouldn’t have liked the giant peacock of a bouquet.

It was getting harder for him to breathe and suddenly there were tears going down his face. They felt just as hot as the heat inside him, and it angered him somehow, to feel them come out. He was shaking more and he didn’t want Carl to see this but his son had a firm grip on him.  Poor kid, stuck in his Sunday suit watching all these people cry and waiting for his father to break down. Daryl would have hated that too. He would have saved Carl from all of this. Daryl would have yelled at all these people to calm the fuck down and move on with their damn lives.

Rick’s face was really wet now. He could practically hear Daryl cursing, tearing the flowers apart, getting real mean, kicking the coffin open and yelling at them for crying over an empty box. Shouting at people, getting in their faces telling them like hell his life meant that much to any of them. Rick let out a painful sound. He still couldn’t feel that they were there to “bury” Daryl, but he could finally feel a crack in his numbness. People really did love him.

Lori’s face came into his vision at some point and he couldn’t take all that emotion in her eyes, but he let her hold his hand.

They sat down. Merle, Rick, Carl, and Lori. As the service went on Rick couldn’t stop thinking about the crowd of people that had come. Most of them were on Rick’s side. They had some mutual friends but it was obviously disproportionate. It felt like the funeral was for him instead of Daryl. Fresh tears brimmed his exhausted eyes as he remembered the few people Daryl would have called family had died with him.

Rick didn’t hear the service. He moved along when they cued him, when Lori patiently instructed him. He heard gunfire and Merle making noise after each shot. Rick reached out and wrapped an arm around his shoulders like he’d seen Daryl do so many times before. Merle actually curled into him and sobbed quietly. When he got louder, Rick squeezed him harder. He didn’t know if it was the heavy rain pouring down on him or the tears that were blocking his sight, but the coffin disappeared before him. A panic engulfed him, his tie tight around his neck, almost choking him. Merle wrapped an arm around him too and he stared hard into Rick’s eyes. His eyes were purple and swollen, still crying. Rick didn’t want to cry anymore, he wanted to scream until he could feel the blood coming out of his mouth, until he could no longer speak or breathe, until he could no longer feel.

He didn’t know how he got home. Suddenly his empty house was full of walking bodies and gratuitous amounts of dishes. Nobody needed that much casserole. Even Daryl couldn’t eat that much. He found himself in the kitchen staring at all the food people had brought and he couldn’t understand what they thought would happen to it. Even if everyone ate he’d still be left with a lot. He lived alone now. Where was the food going to go?

He blinked and he was in the living room. Everyone looked. He blinked again and he was at the stairs. Heavy waves crashed over his legs and he couldn’t take a single step, so he went out the front door.

The porch was safe.


	4. To wish impossible things

_He’d never thought that an Aerosmith song would change his whole life forever._

_It was a warm Saturday night, and Rick was finishing his second beer when the man sitting three stools away from him decided to get up and head to the old jukebox, placed on the other side of the bar. Rick heard him murmur something but he didn’t catch what it was._

_“How the fuck can I change this song?” The man asked the bartender, almost annoyed, placing both hands on each side of the jukebox._

_Oscar looked up from the glass he was cleaning with a white rag. “You can’t, buttons are broken.”_

_Rick stared over his right shoulder at the man, noticing the worn out angel wings on the back of his leather vest, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the whole irony of the situation._

_“What’s so funny?” The man asked once he returned to the stool he was occupying by the bar, a smirk tugging at the left corner of his lips._

_Rick shook his head slowly, looking at the now empty bottle he was still holding with his right hand. “Funny that you hate that song when you got a pair of angel wings on your vest.”_

_The man snorted but he didn’t look annoyed by his words. He finished his whiskey with a quick sip and said, “Ain’t my favorite song o’ ‘em, ‘s all.” He placed the empty glass on the counter, staring back at Rick. That small and almost unnoticeable smile was still there, dancing on his thin, but captivating lips._

_Rick didn’t quite remember how the hell he ended up talking to the man, but he remembered clearly, the exact moment when he got up from his stool and sat next to him. His name was Daryl and he was spending just a few weeks in town before getting deployed again._

_His hair was a little spiky, shorter on the sides with long locks falling over his blue eyes, looking more like a model than a soldier._ _Rick’s gaze dropped slowly to his chest when Daryl asked for another shot of whiskey, two silver dog tags were hanging loosely by his neck, almost hidden in his black shirt and vest._

_“Angel” by Aerosmith started to play again and Rick couldn’t help but laugh when Daryl rolled his eyes and murmured under his breath how much he hated the song before taking a drink of his Daniels._

_“You're my angel, come and save me tonight.”_

* * *

_It was almost four in the afternoon, Shane and Rick had decided to take a small rest before continuing with the rest of their shift._

_The bell above the door rang as he stepped out of the store. Two cans of Coke and a bag of Doritos. Rick was heading back to the cruiser when the metallic clang of a door closing caught his attention._

_There he was again, the man he met three days ago at Oscar’s complaining about an Aerosmith song, walking towards the store’s entrance with a cigarette between his lips._

_“Hey,” Rick found it almost impossible to hold back the stupid smile that spread across his lips._

_Daryl’s eyes met his, wide in his surprise and confusion but quickly relaxing._

_“Hey, officer.” He greeted with that smirk, gesturing to Rick’s uniform with his chin._

_Rick ducked his head down, an impulse he couldn’t resist after that greeting. He smiled nervously and patted down his shirt feeling self-conscious about his clothes. Looking back at those mischievous eyes his mind went blank. He was suddenly very aware that he wanted to keep talking to Daryl. It was a little intimidating how much. He blamed it all on admiration of sorts for what Daryl was doing for their country and  kinship over altruism. But he had no fucking idea how to continue carrying on a conversation with a man like Daryl. What could he possibly say to keep his interest? Would he be taking up precious time Daryl needed to relax before going back?_

_“How are you?” Rick asked and groaned inwardly at how his voice wobbled, reminding him of when it first started to crack._

_“Alright,” Daryl answered, biting his lip for a second before visibly stopping himself and standing more alert. His frame suddenly screamed military._

_Rick stood up a little too and put his hands on his belt. “Thought you wouldn’t be here by now.” Smooth, Rick._

_Daryl let the smoke out of his nostrils. “Nah, I’ll be leaving in two days.”_

_“How long you gonna be out there?”_

_“Nine months” Daryl said, his tone taking a more serious edge._

_Rick nodded slowly, looking towards the cruiser where Shane was waiting for him while an unknown sense of sadness washed over him. They’d only just met but it felt like they’d hit it off. Kinda felt like...like they’d known each other for years._

_“Got skype or somethin’?” Daryl muttered._

_Rick’s eyes returned to Daryl who was now throwing his cigarette butt on the ground, stomping on it firmly, chin almost buried in his chest._

_“Yeah, barely use that thang but yeah,” Rick replied._

_Daryl nodded, biting his lips. “Ain’t much to show out there, jus’ dirt and dust but ‘s somethin’.”_

_Rick opened his mouth just to close it again, feeling like a fish out of water or the nerdy kid trying to be friends with the cool kids._

_“Sounds good, yeah.” He finally said, continuing to find it hard not to smile around the man._

_Daryl walked back to his beat up blue truck, angel wings catching Rick’s eye again as Daryl leaned over the passenger’s door and grabbed something from the dashboard. When Daryl was back, Rick could see that the man had a blue pen in his left hand. He shoved his right hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He used the palm of his left hand as a support while he wrote down something pretty quickly._

_“Here,”  Daryl gave him the folded piece of paper, their fingers brushing when he took it._

_Warm, rough. Something shot up his arm like a current in the places Daryl’s fingers touched. Rick shook himself when Shane yelled from the cruiser, “Rick, move your ass, man!”_

_“Duty ‘s calling?” Daryl asked. What Rick was starting to think of as his trademark smirk, was back on his lips._

_“Yeah,”  Rick smiled back, waving a hand at Shane over his shoulder. “Be careful out there.”_

_Daryl nodded shortly and with a “see ya’” he stepped into the store. Rick headed back to the cruiser, shoving the small paper into the pocket of his pants._

* * *

_Four days later, Rick collapsed on his couch, opening the first three bottoms of his uniform shirt. He placed his laptop over his thighs and stretched his legs up on the coffee table, ready for a small talk with Carl before bed._

_Clicking the Skype logo twice, Rick entered his user and password and drummed his fingers over the keyboard while he waited. His list of contacts was pretty short. Shane only logged in when he was trying to get his dick wet or when he talked to his brother in Uruguay. Lori on the other hand was almost always online._

_Rick clicked over Lori’s user and wrote a quick “I’m here”._

_The clock on the right side of his screen showed that it was past nine._

_Lori replied two minutes later, “Your son fell asleep on me while waiting for you.”_

_“I’m sorry. Got double shift today.”_

_“Don’t worry, he was pretty tired too. How was work?” Rick stretched his arms above his head tiredly, taking in a deep breath._

_"Boring and long. Shane got a new girlfriend.”_

_“Unbelievable. You better ask him to teach you his ways.”_

_Rick chuckled as he typed quickly, “Don’t need ‘em.”_

_Their conversation ended fifteen minutes later with Rick wishing Lori a good night and a promise to make it home early tomorrow to talk to Carl._

_Just when he dragged the little white arrow across his screen to log out, Rick stopped, left hand dropping to the pockets of his pants and rummaged through it tentatively, finding a small piece of paper – now a deformed ball- inside._

_It was a gas bill, and he could barely read what was on it. When he turned it over Rick let out a loud chuckle as he read, “Chupacabra89” written in blue ink._

_He typed the username on the search bar. Daryl Dixon appeared almost immediately with an icon of the man with a dog on the back of a truck. He had the biggest smile Rick had ever seen, different than his usual smirk. It looked like a rare moment caught at the right time. Rick bit his bottom lip before adding him without a second thought. And to his surprise, the friend request didn’t last long to be accepted. Daryl now appeared online among his small list of contacts with “Dust in the wind” as his personal message._

_“Chupacabra89?”_

**_Daryl is typing_ ** _…._

_“Yeah, I saw one when I was 20”_

_“Right.”_

_“Don’t believe me? I’ll take ya on a hunt when I’m around.”_

_Rick didn’t realize he was smiling until he saw his own reflection on the laptop screen._

* * *

Rick breathed like he’d been underwater for a long time, filling his lungs with all the air he could when he finally reached the surface of consciousness. His throat was sore and dry, his lungs hurt with every small inhalation he took and his t-shirt was soaked in sweat and stuck on his chest and back uncomfortably.

It was still dark outside, and the consistent but strangely peaceful sound of raindrops hitting his window softly filled the dead silence of the night. Rick remained still on the bed, staring at the ceiling of his room as his breathing and heart started to slow down. It was 3:04 am when he checked the alarm clock on the bedside table.

Taking the sweaty t-shirt off and throwing it on the floor, Rick got up off the bed. The wood felt cold under his bare feet as he walked to the window. Daryl’s truck was the first thing Rick saw when he pulled the curtains aside and opened the window. The bed of the truck was filled with dead leaves and water that he would have to clean by morning. Rick gripped the window frame with his left hand, feeling the uncomfortable but now so familiar tight knot forming in his throat as he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, trying to suppress memories but failing miserably.

The cold wind blew and a few raindrops landed on his face and bare chest and Rick couldn’t help but let out a shaky sigh when the memories finally washed over him.

* * *

 

_Daryl had shown up at his door with his crossbow on his right shoulder and a soft smirk on his lips._

_“Ready to hunt a chupacabra?” He’d asked and Rick remembered the way he’d felt, almost hypnotized by Daryl’s husky and strangely soft voice._

_It had been 10 months since they’d met that night at the bar and Rick still couldn’t comprehend how his friendship with Daryl had developed so quick and easy._

_“So what’s the plan?” Rick asked when they were finally walking through the woods; Daryl was leading the way with his crossbow held firmly with both hands, looking at the forest ground carefully._

_Daryl stopped suddenly, crouching as he placed the crossbow aside. “See this right ‘ere?” he said, pointing with his finger to the ground covered by dead leaves._

_Rick placed both hands on his hips, frowning as he stared at Daryl, still crouching. Daryl sighed loudly as he proceeded to explain._

_"These are tracks,” he said as he drew an invisible circle in the air around the small mess of leaves and sticks. “Small animal, prob’ly a rabbit or a fox.”_

_“How do you know that?” Rick found himself asking._

_“Been huntin’ all my life,” Daryl replied with a small shrug._

_Just when he was about to shoot another question, Rick felt a cold and unexpected caress running down his right cheek. Daryl looked up to the gray sky above them filled with heavy clouds, taking his crossbow back from the ground as he stood up quickly._

_“Better get the hell out of ‘ere ‘fore starts raining more.” He recommended as he started to lead the way back to Rick’s house._

_But they didn’t run fast enough and soon the heavy rain fell upon them, leaving them soaked to the bone when they finally reached Rick’s front porch._

_Rick couldn’t help but laugh when Daryl shook both arms in an not so effective attempt to dry himself._

_“What’s so funny?” he asked almost annoyed._

_“You look like a wet cat.” Daryl’s long hair was plastered to his forehead when he looked up at Rick, who was still smiling as he kept staring at the hunter._

_Daryl snorted, a smile playing on his lips. “Oh, yeah? Well, your hair's a mess too.”_

_Rick chuckled, combing his wet curls with both hands. “At least mine ain’t all over my face”_

_It was an impulsive thing to do, and Rick didn’t stop to think about it until it was too late. He’d raised his hand and tucked a lock of Daryl’s wet hair behind his ear like it was the most natural thing to do._

_What are you doing? He recalled having asked himself as his hand remained on Daryl’s ear, noticing how cold his skin was because of the rain. And he waited for the man to step back and punch him in the face and leave him bleeding like the asshole he was, he waited, but it didn’t happen. Instead, Daryl remained still, looking at Rick with eyes full of signs that Rick couldn’t read._

_It was certainly an impulsive thing to do, he thought as he barely touched Daryl’s face with the back of his hand erasing every trace of rain on his cheek. But Daryl didn’t react the way Rick was expecting to, He didn’t break his nose, he didn’t step back or reject him neither. Instead, Daryl leaned slightly into Rick’s touch, intense blue eyes looking back at Rick. It was all Rick needed to take one last step forward and catch Daryl’s lips with his own._

_Rough lips met his with need as strong hands held him by the hips, and Rick couldn’t help but sigh into the kiss and backed Daryl until his back hit the wall, his hands holding onto his wet shirt like his life depended on it._

_And since that day it was hard to forget how Daryl’s lips felt on his own, how his strong hands pulled him closer, and how his soft and dark hair felt between his fingers._

 

* * *

 

Rick felt sick as the memory faded and began to repeat again, over and over, all night until he blacked out.

 

* * *

 

Fuck Veteran’s Day.

 

* * *

The day after Veteran’s Day, flowers and food that had been left on his porch mocked him when he opened his front door to get the mail. There were some letters scattered about and American flags. He placed a bare foot onto the sliver of floor that wasn’t covered in crap and opened his mailbox. On top of his mail was a bundle of letters that were obviously put in at a different time. He grabbed them and began to look through them.

Handwritten letters by people in his community that had suffered military deaths. Letter after letter, people offering support and bearing the ugly truth of grief. He looked back at the other things that people had brought him. The difference was striking, the letters felt heavy with solidarity, but the porch was littered with shallow admiration. A particularly tall flag stood propped between flowers. He didn't hesitate to kick it over. He watched it fall over the steps and land on the dirty pathway.

He took the letters with him and closed his door. He suddenly remembered his phone and decided to check the damage before he settled down to read. It was still on the floor where he’d thrown it the night before in a fit of rage after all the calls. It was cracked but most of the screen was readable. Over fifty calls from different numbers and another forty from people he actually knew. Most of them from Lori.

Glenn  
T-Dog  
Shane  
Lori  
Guillermo  
Lori  
Lori  
Maggie  
Shane  
Lori  
Lori  
Lori

He hovered over Lori’s name and finally pressed call.

“Rick,” Lori’s soft voice answered. “It’s Carl. We went- we went to the, oh god. We went to the service. A kid told Carl that Daryl died in vain.” Lori broke into a sob and very quickly covered it up. She sucked in a loud breath and cried a little more, audibly pressing the phone against her chest.

There was no way to describe what Rick was feeling. He was too shocked to feel the rage he knew would have possessed him. Instead he clung onto concern for Carl and focused on how much he needed him.

“Let me talk to him,” Rick said.

Rick heard Lori walk over to Carl’s room, feet patting over the wooden floor. She knocked on his door and waited for a while before knocking again. Ever so softly she called his name until she opened the door. Then the line went very quiet and Carl’s voice answered.

“Dad.”

“Carl. Mom told me someone said something they shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah,” Carl replied.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Rick asked.

Carl took in a deep breath and then went right into, speaking quickly. “He said it in the middle of everything. He asked me, ‘How does it feel knowing Daryl’s death meant nothing? The war isn’t over and the troops are still out there.’ He said that in the middle of all the veterans and families.”

Rick was stunned holding onto every word Carl said, actually wishing he had been there, if only for his son.

“So I punched him in the face and knocked him out.”

“Good.” Rick replied without thinking, but he meant it.

“Really? I kinda thought you were gonna get mad at me and give me some BS about violence at a time like this.”

 _Some BS_. That was all Daryl.

“I will, when someone doesn’t have it coming.”

Carl breathed out a laugh. “It felt good, but I did it for him.”

“Daryl?” Rick asked, Daryl’s name painful in his mouth.

“No. The kid. He was older than me, but he was only sixteen. He said that in a crowd of patriots grieving and honoring our veterans. What do you think would have happened to him? I knocked him out so no one else would do anything worse. Daryl would have done the same thing. Just a stupid kid.”

Rick felt his eyes burn. He knew without a doubt that he would have fallen into a bloodthirsty hunt and there was Carl sympathizing with a spiteful child in the face of his grief.

“It still hurt,” Carl whispered after a while, “what he said wasn’t right.”

“No. It wasn’t. Like you said, he was just a stupid kid.” Rick waited a beat, giving Carl a moment to compose himself. “I’m proud of you, Carl. I’m so proud of you. Daryl would have been proud too.”

Carl was silent for a moment, “I know,” he said with conviction.

Carl spared him unnecessary questions on how he spent that day and handed Lori the phone after a quick goodbye.

“He’s going to get through this,” Rick said. He was struggling to talk, his throat closing up on him, voice breaking with emotion. “He looked out for that kid even though he had every right to do worse.”

“You should have seen him, Rick. He was so hurt, but I saw it, the moment he looked around at the people watching. He decided that boy’s fate in a second. He grabbed that kid by the collar and yelled, ‘My dad is a hero!’ and hit him so hard the kid flew. And then he looked at everyone and waited. Someone started clapping and the crowd moved on. Carl didn’t move until he saw the kid get up and leave alone.”

Rick wiped his forearm across his eyes and let out a breathy laugh.

“I know this is hard. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you and Carl. It’s tearing me up just knowing you’re both going through this, and I miss him. He was my friend.” Lori’s voice began to grow louder, partially obscured by her crying, “I miss him so much, Rick! He loved my son, he loved you, that means everything to me. He was one of the greatest men I’ve ever known.” The line went quiet and then Lori was back on, noticeably calmer. “But yesterday gave me hope for Carl. Rick, he chose to preserve and honor the memory of who Daryl was in a situation that no one would have blamed him for losing it. Our son is strong. He is so strong, Rick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CARL <333333


	5. The devil bent my ear today

Rick held the plate of leftovers Lori had forced onto him. She tried to get him to take more, but he talked her down by callously saying that without Daryl’s help he wouldn’t finish them and they’d rot in the fridge. Lori’s eyes pooled with tears, the brown swirled and glistened, but not a single one fell. She nodded, put a hand to her mouth and handed him the one plate.

The worst part was saying goodbye to Carl.

Rick sighed and pressed his fingers into his eyes to forget his son’s face. He put the plate down on his counter and admired how Lori managed to pile on half the turkey. He was transfixed by her special gravy rolling down the meat. It was Daryl’s favorite. No matter how many times Lori had given him the recipe and basically cooked it hand-over-hand with him, it never came out right. Daryl _loved_ sweet-talking Lori into making him some whenever he could. And she loved making it for him.

Rick continued to stare at it until his eyes unfocused and everything blurred in front of him. Slowly and aimlessly he walked away from the kitchen, eyes still unfocused.

 

* * *

 

_It was their fourth Thanksgiving together. Carl was with them while Lori took on a bigger workload. She’d felt really guilty about missing out on the holiday and promised them their most extravagant Christmas yet for her absence. Merle was with them, practically spitting at Shane. Rick and Guillermo watched on with glee as the two argued about anything and everything._

_"Guillermo! Rick! We need help in the kitchen you useless assholes!” Daryl yelled._

_Guillermo threw his head back in laughter and patted Rick’s back, pushing him in the direction of their kitchen._

_Daryl was at the oven checking on the turkey and Carl was sampling the gravy Rick had made earlier. Carl’s face turned sour and he pushed it away from himself. Rick’s face fell and he rushed forward and stuck a finger in the gravy and sucked it into his mouth. Rick groaned and looked at it with disappointment. He looked over at Daryl and found him already looking at him. Daryl’s eyes softened with sympathy._

_“Didn’t come out right?” He asked._

_Guillermo came up to them and also stuck a finger in the gravy to taste it. He sighed around the finger in his mouth._

_“Man, if it makes you feel better, I can’t get it right either.” Guillermo said._

_“I still have hope she passed her magic onto Carl. Next year you’re making the gravy little man,” Daryl said, kicking the oven door closed._

_Carl beamed under Daryl’s attention and shrugged a shoulder._

_“You better start practicing now, Carl,” Guillermo said playfully._

_Carl squinted his eyes at him, trying to hold back a smile, but ultimately broke out into a laugh._

_Rick looked on with a smile; he remembered the first time Lori mentioned she was dating some guy named Guillermo, “But let’s see how far it gets,” she had said then. Two years later the guy was still around, making her happy. Making Carl happy._

_They all came out of the kitchen; Shane and Merle were talking about the latest game and it amazed Rick how Merle and Shane had become good friends since his relationship with Daryl started. Somehow they had been lucky enough that they were able to blend their groups together. Everyone seemed to get along. They were all family._

_“Why aren’t there more people?” Merle asked suddenly, he glared at Shane. “Don’t you usually have a new girl?”_

_Shane chuckled, “What are you trying to say? And what, were you gonna hit on a girl I’d bring with me?_

_“Nah, man, I don’t need that,” Merle said._

_“You guys are the only people Dad knows. He doesn’t have friends.” Carl said innocently._

_“What about your mom?” Rick asked, slightly offended._

_Carl shrugged, “She’s my mom, ‘course you’re friends, and Shane told me she did all the work.”_

_The men shared a look over Carl’s innocent naivety. Out of everyone there, only Rick knew what it was like to have parents that were not only decent, but each other’s best friends._

_“I’m right here!” Shane whined._

_“Mom says you wore dad down until he finally hung out with you.” Carl replied._

_Shane looked over at Rick for support, but Rick had already moved on._

_“Guillermo?” Rick continued and Guillermo started laughing, looking at Carl with immense fondness._

_“Mom’s first.”_

_“Well, there’s Daryl!” Rick threw back._

_“Yeah, but he’s your boyfriend,” Carl said rolling his eyes._

_“That happened very quickly too, you guys weren’t friends for long.” Shane remarked._

_“Slut,” Merle mouthed at Rick._

_“Wow, Rick, you don’t have friends.” Daryl said with a playful smile on his lips. Rick smiled back at Daryl, a second away from laughing._

_“I have friends.” Rick said._

_“Name one friend you made on your own.” Daryl asked, getting into it. He looked over at Carl and nodded._

_Rick paused and crossed his arms, looking at the floor in thought. “Oh god, I’m an asshole,” he said quietly. Then he wrapped an arm around Daryl’s shoulders. “I still say Daryl counts.”_

_“Kay, Dad. You have one friend. I have twelve and that’s not counting my friends on my baseball team.”_

_“It’s different when you get older, you don’t really have time to keep that many friends.”_

_Guillermo laughed and then Rick turned his attention onto him. “What about you?”_

_“Like six?” Guillermo answered easily._

_“Not counting any of us?” Shane asked with disbelief and a little envy._

_“You want me to name them?” Guillermo asked._

_Shane and Rick glared at him._

_“Don’t look at me like that, this son of a gun right here has a whole squad.” Guillermo said, putting both his hands on Daryl’s shoulders. Daryl ducked his head down, but a smirk began to emerge._

_“That’s because he’s Daryl,” Carl said with all the surety of a child. Daryl turned to look at him in surprise. He cleared his throat quietly and shifted from foot to foot. Rick melted as he watched Daryl take in Carl’s compliment._

_A soft knock on their door interrupted their conversation._

_“I’ll go.” Daryl said and Rick watched him zigzag through the living room._

_An unfamiliar face appeared when Daryl opened the door. A young man with a friendly smile stood on their porch, greeting Daryl and saying something Rick couldn’t hear from where he was standing. Daryl responded with a quick nod of his head and a “yeah, man, come in,” as he stepped aside to let the new guest in._

_The conversation stopped and every pair of eyes turned to the man standing next to Daryl._

_“Everyone, this is Glenn,” Daryl introduced him and the man waved at everyone with a small and awkward smile on his face. “He’s new ‘round here.”_

_They all welcomed Glenn and before long his awkward smile turned into a genuine one of enjoyment._

_“Ran into him earlier, moved out here without his family. Figured we had enough food.” Daryl had said to him in private. Rick put an arm around Daryl and squeezed him with affection. “You did good,” he had whispered back to him and rejoined the others._

_At some point in the night, Carl took center stage and started boasting about his training. Everyone cheered him on and Rick got roped into a few demonstrations. Carl got the best of him and managed to send him rolling across the floor and under the dining table. Everyone broke into laughter._

_Glenn walked over and bent down to Rick’s eye level. “Cozy in there?”_

_“Shut up and help me up.” Rick said in good spirits. Glenn laughed and held out a hand._

_Later that night when Rick made a toast about family and friends, his eyes sought Glenn’s and when the younger man’s smile grew bigger, Rick considered that a friendship sealed._

 

* * *

 

First Thanksgiving without _him,_ Rick thought, hands curling into tight fists. The whole dinner had been a slow torture for him, surrounded by people talking about random shit and pitiful eyes staring down at him.

Three knocks on his door pulled him out of his thoughts; Rick’s eyes focused again on the front door as another knock broke into the silence of his house.

Rick could see the silhouette of someone standing on the porch as he headed to the front door combing his hair with his right hand before opening the door.

Glenn greeted him with a silent nod of his head and small smile; he’d seen him at the funeral and afterwards, a blurry figure he barely registered.

“Tried to call you earlier but you didn’t pick up.”

 “I was at Lori’s, sorry,” Rick said.

Glenn nodded.

Rick stepped out on the porch and leaned over the railing, the trees around his property were already naked and their leaves covered the ground, some of them had been carried by the wind and landed on his porch. He hadn’t even noticed how fast Autumn had passed.

“How’s Maggie?” Rick asked, it’s been a long time since he’d seen her.

Glenn’s smile was back on his face, wider this time. “She’s fine, she’s uhm...she’s pregnant,” he said, letting out a short laugh as he scratched the back of his head.

It had been a while since he’d smiled sincerely at someone, not just faked it to pretend he was ok after an _“I’m sorry for your loss”._

“Congratulations, man” Rick said, feeling his eyes water when he squeezed his friend’s shoulder.

Glenn nodded, proud smile over his lips “Thanks, it feels weird, y’know? We knew that It would happen at some point but for it to be happening here and now. It feels so surreal.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Rick smiled,  “I was just the same when Lori was pregnant, took me completely by surprise.”

“I’m gonna need your help.” Glenn said with a laugh, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“No parent knows what they’re really getting into,” Rick said feeling a pressure lift from his chest for a moment thinking about Carl’s early years. God, he and Lori were a mess. He didn’t understand how _that_ wasn’t the end of their marriage.

Involuntarily, memories of the first times Daryl met Carl came up. His chest ached all over again and his stomach sank. The talks they had before and after about Daryl’s fears. He always had Carl’s best interest at heart, constantly reminding Rick it was okay if they ended things if Carl didn’t like him. Though heavily appreciated, it was completely unnecessary. Carl was just as smitten with Daryl as Daryl was with him.

“But look at Carl, he’s a great kid. I want all your secrets, man.”

Rick looked back at Glenn. He’d forgotten about him for a moment. He didn’t feel like talking anymore. He wanted to go to bed and sleep.

“How’d it go at Lori’s?” Glenn asked softly.

Rick shrugged his shoulders, hearing Carl’s five year old’s voice greeting Daryl for the first time, Daryl’s timid response.

“Rick, hey.” Glenn reached out and placed a hand on Rick’s shoulder.

Rick finally focused on Glenn, but that pressure was back on his chest and he was getting sleepier. He was so tired.

“If you ever need to, or want to talk, I’m here. I’m always here if you need me, Maggie too. You’re family to us.”

“Thank you,” Rick said, because he knew that’s what he was supposed to say.

Glenn looked like he’d been cut deep. Then Rick was in a hard and warm embrace, Glenn’s arms holding him tight.

“It’s okay,” Rick said into Glenn’s shoulder.

“No, it’s not.” Glenn’s muffled voice replied. “You’re not alone, Rick. You’re my best friend.”

The tight but now familiar knot in his throat expanded, making it hard to breathe. Glenn was right, he was not alone, Lori, Shane, Carl, Glenn, Guillermo, were all still here.

_But why did it still feel like he was alone? Why did the emptiness inside his chest keep growing every day?_

Rick nodded silently, stepping back and frowning slightly to hold back the tears itching in the corners of his eyes, almost burning the skin there, like acid.

“Fall is almost over,” he commented after a short silence, leaning over the railing of the porch, trying to keep his mind busy somehow. Glenn seemed to understand the sudden change of topic judging by the way he just opted to remain silent.

Glenn’s phone rang suddenly, breaking the silence; Rick could hear Maggie’s muffled voice from the other side when Glenn answered.

“A’right, be there in a bit,” Glenn said, looking at the floor while speaking.

Glenn left with a friendly squeeze on his shoulder and a promise of calling him later and Rick closed the door with a foggy feeling of relief when Glenn drove off of his property.

A door closing at the top of the stairs snapped Rick out of his stupor. He looked down the hall trying to get a glimpse of the backdoor wondering if someone snuck in. Nothing looked disturbed. Footsteps above his head sent him into action and he climbed the steps quickly, easily avoiding every squeaky floorboard. It was second nature sneaking his way towards the noise.

Another door opened and closed. His bedroom. Rick reached for knife they kept on a nearby shelf, he waited outside the door hoping to hear the intruder. They were moving around inside, but Rick couldn’t tell what they were doing. All he could think about were Daryl’s things still in there, and what the intruder could possibly do to them. He couldn’t take it, he opened the door, knife at ready and stopped right in his tracks.

Daryl sat on the bed, shirt off, a needle and surgical string in hand, trying to get at a gaping and bleeding wound. He startled when Rick opened the door, but he settled back down and wearily looked at Rick with relief.

_No._

The static inside his head increased, leaving him stunned, paralyzed. Tremors ran through every muscle of his body, making his knees weak and his hands shake, the metal sound of the knife hitting the wooden floor detonated his adrenaline.

Rick blindly walked backwards until his back hit the wall across from his bedroom door, eyes moving back quickly to the spot on the bed where Daryl was sitting just seconds ago.

But _he_ was not there.


	6. They're making children, they're making love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hiiii

It wasn’t possible.

Rick wasn’t sure what time it was exactly or how long it had been since he let himself drop onto the wooden floor of his hallway, back pressed hard against the wall in an attempt to anchor himself to reality. His hands were still shaking as he tried to cover his face with them. His palms were sweating and his fingertips were cold against his eyelids.

_What was wrong with him?_

Slowly, he removed his hands but he didn’t look up right away. The door of his bedroom was still open. From his position on the floor he could see the exact spot where Daryl had been sitting on mere seconds – _or hours_ \- ago, faintly illuminated by the moonlight coming through the closed curtains.

Rick used the wall behind him to support his weight as he stood up, knees almost failing him in the process. He looked to both sides of the empty hallway before stepping into the bedroom.

As he walked through the dark room, Rick felt cold sweat running down his back. His legs felt numb with every step he took, and his hands were still shaking. He grasped for a logical explanation of what he saw, but his brain keep getting stuck on a blind spot.

Daryl wasn’t there, it was impossible because…

Because...

The moon illuminated part of the room, bathing Daryl’s side of the bed in pale silver. When Rick made it to the exact spot he’d seen Daryl moments ago, he collapsed on the floor again and broke down. He cried with his face buried in the mattress. He could still smell Daryl’s scent there.

He’s not here. 

 

***

 

_Rick stepped onto the porch while holding two cold beers in each hand. Daryl was sitting on one of the wooden chairs, dirty boots lying carelessly on the floor and greasy, black fingers holding a cigarette. His eyes stared at the different shades of orange, purple, blue and pink in the sky, the day dying before his eyes._

_“Still not working?” Rick asked, passing Daryl a beer as he sat beside him._

_“The damn thing's dead,” Daryl said frustrated, taking a long sip of his cold beer. ”’m gonna call Jim tomorrow to help me out with it.”_

_Daryl had spent the whole afternoon trying to fix his truck under the bright summer sun, leaving a reddish color on his shoulders and cheeks. A black demon peering from under his worn shirt looked back at him as Rick let his eyes wander to Daryl’s hair, short and spiky on the back with longer locks falling over his forehead, damp with sweat._

  _"_ _You can sell it, y’know” Rick suggested, sipping his beer and sighing in relief as he stretched his tired legs out, still wearing his boots and uniform._

_“Yeah?” Daryl turned to look at him, small smile playing at the corner of his thin lips. “Got a car in mind?”_

_“ A Ford Focus sounds good to ya?”_

_Daryl chuckled and shook his head slowly, taking a small drag of his cigarette. “I ain’t selling my truck fo’ that, man”_

_“What about an Explorer?”_

_This time Daryl snorted loudly, “What are we? Soccer moms?”_

_“I’m just saying that it could be useful in the future,” Rick commented with a shrug of his shoulders._

_Daryl shifted next to him and tore his eyes from the sunset, meeting Rick’s. “Something ya wanna tell me, Grimes?”_

_Rick hadn’t particularly been explicit with his intention, but Daryl had caught on. The man knew him as well as he knew the woods by now._

_He tried real hard to keep the vulnerability from his face, to conceal how much it meant to him, in case it wasn’t something that Daryl wanted. He never wanted Daryl to feel pressured or like he expected more from him than he could give. They were family enough. Rick really didn’t need more. But he wanted._

_“I’ve been thinking,” He started, drumming his fingers on the neck of his cold bottle “That maybe our family might need a little more room, someday. ”_

_Daryl stared at him for what felt like a whole minute, then turned his gaze back to the sky and took a long drag of his cigarette. “Ain’t good with kids.” he murmured, white smoke slipping from his lips._

_“You’re good with Carl.” Rick assured him. “And if we do this, I’m sure you’re gonna be a good father.”_

_Daryl looked back at him and blew out his smoke “Yeah right, me in the woods with a pair of pigtails following me around…” Daryl’s voice lost its edge near the end. And he stayed there, his cigarette forgotten in between his fingers as the ashes fell on the floor._

_Rick didn’t dare to hope, but in the lost look in Daryl’s eyes, Rick swore he could see the vision Daryl had just described, reflected back at him. He nodded to himself and stood up from the chair with a secret smile on his lips. He placed his left hand over Daryl’s shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin against his palm, giving him a slow caress with his thumb before heading back inside._

***

Rick walked back into the bathroom numbly. The heat of the light stung his face after a while, he wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there, or why. He looked around unable to jog his memory and started staring off into corners. The ticking of his wrist watch caught his attention and the time reminded him that he was going to be late to Lori’s.

Another holiday without him; Christmas. If it were up to Rick he’d never look at another calendar. There wasn’t anything to celebrate, but Rick couldn’t deny Carl a holiday without his father.

He looked into the mirror and looked over his clothes. When he ran a hand down his shirt he remembered that had been the reason for going into the bathroom. He wanted to make sure his clothes weren’t too unkempt. He didn’t have it in him to iron anything, but there was just a little bit left in him to care how Carl perceived Rick’s grief.

His clothes were passable...but his pale and sunken face made him look away in shame. He looked past his reflection and to the curtains of the shower. His eyes followed the pattern until he became entranced by the deep color.

 

_Rick rushed into the bathroom, about to pull the curtains open to tell Daryl to hurry up when Daryl stepped out, putting his dogtags back on. Rick stopped and stared at the sight. Daryl continued, unaware and undisturbed by Rick. He moved with purpose, grabbing for a towel, gifting Rick with a rare sight of his entire body exposed and completely at ease. Then Daryl looked back at Rick. Daryl smirked up at him and slowed his hands as they tied the towel into a knot. Rick swallowed as Daryl’s arms tensed and muscle shined under droplets of water._

_He looked back up as Daryl’s mouth parted around his smirk and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, eyes lit with fire Rick wanted to burn under. Rick couldn’t resist him. He stepped closer to him, slowly, taking his time to take in Daryl’s naked body before him. He stopped until he was close enough to smell Daryl’s fresh skin._

_F_ _inally, he leaned in, “We’re gonna be late.” He said and just when he had Daryl fooled into thinking he wasn’t not going to touch him, he leaned in and stole a kiss. Rick smiled into the kiss and moved to pull away but Daryl grabbed his face and pulled him back in._

_“Where the fuck you think you’re going?” Daryl snarled between their lips and pushed Rick into the bedroom._

 

Rick felt cold somehow. He couldn’t comprehend the onslaught of sensations and emotions overcoming him. He felt like he was stepping out of his body for a moment and the space he left behind wasn’t solid enough to keep the air from passing through. He never thought he would feel that way remembering Daryl’s touch. Even when Daryl was deployed and Rick was missing him something fierce, he could fall back into those memories and feel his body relieve every single hungry and loving touch.

He looked back at the bedroom following the memory. He remembered that day so well. How Daryl had put him down and straddled his lap. How they didn’t care anymore that they were going to be late and Rick could already see the smirk on Lori’s face. Rick sat down on the bed and ran his hands over the spots Daryl had set his knees on. He looked up into the empty air and dresser set in front.

 

***

Rick had been late to Lori’s again, only this time he spent the last hour on the verge of crying and feeling absolutely nothing, and staring at the comforter he had balled up in his hands.

Lori grabbed him by the shoulder and back of his head and pulled him into an embrace, instead of the half-hearted swat she had given him years ago when he arrived late with Daryl. She held him for a good while and Rick felt air go through his body again and he wondered how he could feel that and Lori’s body against him.

“I love you. Okay? Don’t forget that.” Lori whispered. She kissed his cheek and then pulled away. She held his hands and looked him in the eyes. “Carl loves you, Guillermo too.”

Rick looked back at her with vague fascination. Every inch of her face screamed pain and love. It was so loud somehow. He nodded at her, knowing he had to respond. It worked and as Rick watched her walk away he wondered if that’s how Daryl had felt around people. Disconnected and awkward.

Guillermo walked out of the living room just as they were heading in. He reached out for Lori’s hand and held it for a second, then Lori continued on into the house. Guillermo took one look at Rick and his stoic gaze broke.

“Fuck.” Guillermo muttered and rubbed at his eyes with his forearm.

 

*******

 

Carl worried his bottom lip, a habit he had picked up from Daryl years ago. Something that Daryl had never approved of, and every time he’d caught Carl doing it, Daryl would smack him upside the head.

 You do it all the time!” Carl would yell, but would stop anyway.

 Carl stopped and looked at Rick, both aware of the same memories playing through their heads. Carl looked down and put his hands in his jean pockets, slouching against the frame.

“Do you need to get anything else?” Rick asked softly.

Carl had two sets of everything, one at Rick’s and one at Lori’s. They both knew Carl would be fine just taking off with the shirt on his back.

Carl shook his head and then stopped and shrugged his shoulders. It was obvious there was something different in his eyes. Carl’s face had aged. Rick knew that Carl was no longer a boy, his son was starting to take his first steps into adolescence, but this was something else altogether. A light that used to be there, gone.

Rick had been drowning in his own grief and memories in a house that mercilessly threw them at him. Everything had seemed so isolated and chaotically contained in his own tomb, but his son had bared more than Rick could stand. Carl now lived in a reality that was vulnerable to the permanent and irreversible effects of death, no matter how hard Rick and Lori would try ease his suffering.

“Is his stuff still there?” Carl asked.

Rick’s heart lept, a perfectly detailed mental image of Daryl’s things thrown about the house, flashed before his eyes.

“I haven’t…” Rick said, failing to say it all aloud.

Carl nodded, sniffling, starting to cry, but he cleared his throat and wiped his face with his sweater sleeve.

Lori walked in, her face instantly mirroring Carl’s. 

 

***

 

They walked up the pathway together, neither of them avoiding the loose floorboards. Carl had gotten taller since the last time they’d been together. It was vaguely eerie and confusing to feel both numb and completely devastated. The overwhelming realization of coming home with Carl, and Daryl being _gone_ , impaled him over and over and over-

The door creaked open. Carl stared into the quiet house. He stayed absolutely still for a few minutes, and then his shoulders started moving, up and down, up and down. He wasn’t crying. Finally, Carl stepped through and Rick almost couldn’t follow him. Needles were at the pit of his stomach, watching Carl take in the house, Daryl’s things.

It was heartbreaking and that day replayed over and over in his head again. He felt the letter in his hands again, heard the knocking behind him, heard Daryl’s voice reciting the script. Rick bit the inside of his cheek and focused on Carl. He needed him.

Carl’s body moved and stopped in a way Rick had never seen before. How could a body express that much grief and emotion doing nothing different than usual? He’d never even thought about a body being expressive in that way, though as a cop body language was something he was always looking out for. He just didn’t know it could be like this too.

As Rick was gaining the courage to offer Carl something to eat, anything to distract him, Carl suddenly took off. He ran up the stairs and Rick could hear his footsteps all over the second floor. And then Carl was back, in Daryl’s hoodie.

Carl always borrowed that hoodie. It was practically his, but he and Daryl liked to take turns wearing it. Sometimes Carl would make him take it with him when he was deployed and then Carl would wear it for months on end when Daryl would come back.

“We should eat,” Carl said decidedly, avoiding Rick’s eyes.

Carl went straight into the kitchen and stuck his hand into a drawer, pulling out the deck of cards that Daryl used to play with him. He fiddled with them for a while, staring at them with a hollow glaze in his eyes. Rick knew he was supposed to be strong, he knew he had to help his son somehow, but he didn’t what to do. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do next, or how he was supposed to keep it together.

He was using everything he had to keep himself from breaking down again.

He knew from years of being with Daryl that staring didn’t help and he had to keep moving, keep them distracted. Rick took the easy way out, he didn’t want to be in the kitchen with Carl and remember all the times they all cooked together as a family, and decided to order pizza.

Carl didn’t say anything, just took his cards with him and sat in Daryl’s favorite spot on the couch.

Time had become surreal and untrackable over the last few months, but now, Rick felt every second and minute. Time pounded into his chest in every sigh and restrained sob from his son, every time he wiped his eyes with Daryl’s sleeve, when he put down the cards and stared at them like they would move any minute.

When he looked at the front door.

The soft, broken whispers, “He was my best friend.”

The ghost between them.

“I feel like he’s going to walk through the door any minute.” Carl said and looked away from the door, jerking his chin like Daryl used to, “He wasn’t always around anyway. I keep thinking the door is going to open, and he’ll be there. It’s stupid, I know.”

 


	7. Till all the pain's a cloud of dust

“You don’t need to be alone in this. I can’t let you go through this alone in that house. Rick, please, come stay with us,” Lori begged, hands pulling Rick in close.

Rick continued to stare down at the floor.

“Rick, please...for our family. You need help.”

“I’m fine.” Rick mumbled.

Lori leaned her forehead against his and looked into his empty eyes.

“No, baby. You’re in pain. I’m going to help you somehow, we’ll work something out.”

 

***

 

Rick found himself sitting outside of an office, waiting for the therapist to see him. The clock placed on the wall behind the secretary’s desk marked 1:20 pm. Letting out a heavy sigh, Rick dropped his gaze to his hands resting over his lap.

 _This was a stupid idea_ , no one could help him deal with...what happened, except himself.

Just when he was about to stand up and leave, the door of the office opened and a blonde woman stepped out, closing the door gently behind her. She wiped the corner of her left eye with her hand carefully, looking at Rick briefly as she walked to the secretary’s desk. Her eyes were red and swollen.

The woman told the secretary something and then the secretary proceeded to write it down in her agenda as she nodded.

“Then I’ll see you next week, Andrea,” the secretary said, looking up at the woman and giving her a warm smile.

The blonde woman nodded and smiled back, looking for something in her purse as she walked to the exit.

Rick looked at the secretary expectantly, but she remained focused on her work. He watched her for a couple more minutes and then gave up and leaned back in his chair. He began to plan how he was going to explain to the therapist that he didn’t need to be there. He was practically forced to. Before he knew it, fifteen minutes had gone by.

The secretary looked at Rick and smiled, leaning into the intercom and pressing a button. She said something Rick couldn’t hear from his position in the waiting room and another voice, even more distorted, answered back.

“’kay” the secretary said before leaning back in her chair, writing something down in the same agenda. “Rick Grimes?”

Rick looked immediately in the secretary’s direction. “Yeah”

She nodded once, “She’s waiting for you,” she said, then she looked down at the agenda again.

He rubbed both hands over his thighs before he stood up and walked to the closed door of the office.

***

Rick stepped into a room that was not quite small, but felt undeniably intimate. A large window to the left of him bathed the room in more light than he appreciated. Though he was momentarily distracted by the sun’s rays, he remained aware of a woman staring at him very intently.

He avoided her stare for a second, trying to feel it out. It was surprisingly neutral, and didn’t set him off. He finally looked in her direction, a momentary log of her non-judgmental eyes and patient smile, and met her stare. She pushed in a book onto the shelf of a bookcase behind her desk and walked over to him.

“Hello, Mr. Grimes,” She said easily, offering her hand.

Rick stared at her hand for a brief moment realizing that his jaw was clenched tightly when he took her warm and soft hand. “Glad to meet you,” he said, voice conveying the opposite.

The therapist smiled anyway, something shining in her eyes. “Thank you for coming in,” she began, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk as she took a seat in hers. “How are you?” She asked, that same smile on her face, resting her hands on a manila folder that caught Rick’s eye.

Rick almost laughed and took the offered seat. He’d been hearing that question pretty damn often in the last months, his family, friends, coworkers, neighbors.

 _“I’m fine”_ he’d said, lying without remorse, but those words seemed to gain weight with the pass of time.

“I’m not sure if I’ve been worse, or if I’m doing better.” And his honesty surprised him, _released him_ , somehow.

The therapist’s eyebrow subtly lifted and her smile grew a little more before disappearing. She flicked her nails idly on the tip of the folder. The click it made was muffled quickly with her next words.

“That’s quite an answer,” she said opening the folder finally. “Let’s revisit that after we get a few things out of the way. First names are fine by me. My name is Michonne, it's a pleasure.”

After informing Rick of their policy and asking him about his past experiences with therapy, Michonne explained to him how the sessions generally work.

The secret inside the folder was revealed and Michonne slipped over her mahogany desk a paper with blank spaces to fill, offering him a blue pen that was in a glass cylinder near her computer.

“Please answer these questions. Take your time.”

 _I don’t need to be here_. Rick thought, clenching his jaw again and slowly drumming the pen over his right thigh, eyes quickly reading what was written on the page he was holding.

_“..the impact on your daily life…”_

_“In the past month...sadness...”_

Sadness, a feeling that used to feel so alien to him months ago, now it clung to him like a dark entity without a face.

_I feel restless and/or irritable..._

The shadows under his eyes and the tiredness over his shoulders were evidence of how little he’d been sleeping lately, his hallucinations seemed to be stronger at night. He’d hung up the phone while Lori was still talking to him yesterday.

_I have lost interest in hobbies and activities I once enjoyed_

It’d been months since the last time Rick took a walk through the woods. It had almost been a routine for him, especially when Daryl was at home. They’d spend hours talking about anything and everything while walking through the forests and fields nearby, always getting home when the sun was setting.

When Rick looked up from the paper his eyes met Michonne's immediately.

She looked back at him and then the paper. “Do you have any questions?”

“Is this all necessary?” he asked, his voice sounding more irritated than he’d intended to.

Michonne nodded, a couple of locs slipped over her shoulder as she gestured to the paper. “This is an assessment. A good way to keep track of any symptoms that you may be experiencing. Once you fill it out, we’ll go over it in more detail.”

“A’right” Rick said, leaning on the back of the chair and crossing his legs, supporting the paper on his thigh.

Rick answered the rest of the questions quickly and without hesitating after that. He checked the paper one more time -making sure that he hadn’t left anything blank- and then slid it back to her sitting across from him.

Michonne took the paper in hand and quickly looked through it. Then she reached for a notebook that had already been set out, opened to a blank page. She took down some notes that Rick couldn’t see from his angle.

“How often are you eating?”

Rick was pretty sure that he still had leftovers of Thanksgiving in his fridge. But Lori was always there, making sure he was eating.

“What’s necessary to keep me standing.” But he wasn’t being very honest, maybe not even with himself, his weight loss was evident to everyone, even the ones that hadn’t known him _before_ …

Michonne took more notes and nodded. “You wrote down that you had a decrease in appetite. When did you start losing your appetite?”

“I’d say after…” His voice vanished at the end, flashbacks of that day flowing wildly through his mind, repeating itself like an old movie, a movie that just he could see. “After I got the news, didn’t notice it until after the funeral.”

Michonne nodded again and continued writing in her notepad. She looked up at him again, brown eyes quickly running over the lines and washed out color of his face.

“How many actual meals do you eat throughout your day?”

Rick crossed both hands over his lap, sighing “It varies, two most of the time. Finding it hard to eat at night”

“Why is that?”

And in that moment Rick considered the idea of telling her about his hallucinations, but that would probably cost him his ticket back to work.

“Makes me feel sick.” Rick said, half-true. “Find myself throwing up in the middle of the night.”

“How often does that happen?” The therapist asked, her forehead crinkling in concern.

_When I see him standing at the end of my bed, when I dream of him…dying._

“Quite often.” _Almost every night._

“That’s awful, I’m really sorry to hear that.” Michonne said sincerely. She took down a quick note and looked back at him, hand going to her own throat. “Did the doctor say anything about your throat?”

 _"_ According to him everythang‘s fine. Tests came back okay.”

_But it didn’t feel like it._

“Good. That’s something you don’t need to worry about. Okay, and how many hours do you sleep at night?”

“Around six hours,” He scratched his right cheek, feeling his three-day stubble. “Wake up several times during the night.”

“How many times do you wake up?”  

“Two or three times.”

It continued on like that for a while. Basic questions that he’d already answered at his checkup, and rephrasing of questions he answered on the paper. She asked about his temperament, Rick always considered himself as a level-headed man, even on the worst, most stressful scenarios. But on those few months he’d found himself holding back from screaming at Lori or Shane over nothing.

Rick shifted on his seat, clearing his throat and looking down at his hands still folded over his lap. “I’ve always been the level-head type,” He began “But that seems to have changed these past months.”

She asked about Lori and Carl. How close Carl was to Daryl. She explained Bereavement and how long it often lasted before there needed to be concern. She assured him everything he was feeling was _normal_ , _expected_.

_Everything?_

She explained grief and its stages, that he might go back and forth, that it wasn’t a linear process.

Then she asked him to tell her what had happened.

“As you already know, I’ve been given information, but I want to hear it from you,” She said, and in her eyes he saw that she knew what she was asking of him. It came out of him like a report, facts and necessary details, his voice steady and flat. She took a few fast notes down, but mostly looked him in the eye throughout the whole thing.

She asked him about Daryl’s will, military compensation... Always reminding him that he could choose not to answer or that he could change topics. Then it was over. She sent him to her assistant to schedule another appointment, with her last question repeating in his mind.

 

 _Are you ready to go back to work?_  


*******

Rick wiped any trace of steam off of the mirror in front of him, staring at his own reflection for a long moment. He found it hard to remember when was the last time he’d done that, sure he stood in front of the mirror every morning to brush his teeth but it was something he’d been doing on autopilot all those months.

But seeing his own reflection was different, seeing how deep the lines on the corners of his eyes were, how the shadows under his eyes were turning into a more darker shade of purple and how he could barely see his own lips behind the thick beard he’d forgotten to shave for months.

_When was the last time he’d shaved?_

Rick leaned on the sink and scratched his beard slowly, feeling like he’d aged ten years with it. Opening the cabinet, Rick pulled out his shaving cream and a new razor, trying to ignore Daryl’s stuff placed next to his things as he closed it back.

*******

His first day at work after four months was pretty easy and Rick couldn’t feel more grateful about it.

That morning when Rick stepped into the station he felt like every pair of eyes there were looking at him with pity, the phone ringing incessantly was the only thing he could hear as he felt the knot starting to form in his throat like a damn snake.

 _“It’s Grimes”_ He heard a familiar male voice say on his left near a desk. Maybe it was Leon but he wasn’t sure, the noise inside his head started to increased, turning into static.

 _“He’s so skinny”_  This time a female voice murmured quietly, followed by another murmur Rick couldn’t catch.

 _“I don’t think he’s ready yet.”_ Another comment was thrown at his direction as Rick started to head to his office, his vision already blurry at the corner of his eyes, but an arm over his shoulders pulled Rick out of the reception and into the hallways of the station.

Shane soon guided him to the where the coffee machine.“I’m gonna beat the fuck out of anyone who ask ya somethin’,” he said, disgust clear in his voice, placing both hands on his hips as he stared at the floor then back at Rick carefully.

“It’s ok, Shane,” He assured him, pinching the bridge of his nose as he counted to ten. “I’m ok.”

“Ain’t their fuckin’ business, man,” Shane insisted “Ya don’t need to explain shit to anyone.”

Rick sighed and nodded slowly, leaning his back against the wall, the noise coming from the reception and the offices filled the silence between them.

“Welcome back, partner,” Shane said with a short smile after a moment. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here, we’re patrolling today.”

The rest of the day went like sand through his fingers, a greasy lunch at Dale’s -Shane insisted to pay everything, _sorta like a welcome to work gift_ ,  his friend had said- and a box of chocolate-covered donuts when the afternoon was reaching its end along with their patrolling shift.

“Feels good to be back, huh?” Shane had said as they pulled out in the parking lot of the station.

Rick turned off the car “Yeah, I guess.”  He smiled shortly, the corners of his lips felt too heavy.

Shane stared at him in silence for a couple of seconds and with a million of questions written in his eyes, but he just nodded to himself while opening the passenger’s door and stepped out of the cruiser.

Rick closed the driver’s door, throwing the keys to Shane who caught them just in time.

“See you tomorrow,” Rick said as he started to head to where his own car was parked, rummaging into his pockets for his car keys.

“Hey, Rick?”

Rick stopped in his tracks, looking at Shane over his left shoulder, his friend was still standing next to the cruiser, a familiar look on his eyes, the same eyes that everyone around him had been looking at him with in the past months.

“Yeah?” he murmured, feeling his back and shoulders tense, the burning feeling in his lungs and his hands forming a tight fist, the cold and metallic keys digging into one of his palms.

“If you need anything, a talk or a beer,” Shane trailed off, scratching the top of his head like he was trying to find the right words “Anything, just call me, brother.”

Rick appreciated Shane’s offer, he really did, but he didn’t want to drag anyone into his own personal hell, he didn’t need anyone’s compassion.

“Thanks.” Rick smiled tiredly, nodding once at his partner and resumed his walk to his car.

It was 6:01 pm when Rick climbed into his car and let his body sink into the driver’s seat, the leather underneath him to cracking in the silence of his car. Letting his head fall back, Rick stared vaguely at the car’s ceiling, counting to ten, then to fifteen, but it wasn’t until he reached forty-eight that his heart started to beat at a normal pace inside his chest.

Yeah, his first day at work after four months away had been relatively easy. He didn’t actually have to deal with most of the people at the station that day, and yet he felt like he had been drowning, with everyone watching him from the distance.

With a sigh, Rick turned on the engine and drove out of the parking lot of the Police Station, a long week was ahead of him.

The town was just a blurry and monochrome sight as he drove through the streets, stopping his car slowly when the traffic lights changed to red and faceless people started to cross the street in front of him. Rick drummed his fingers repeatedly on the steering wheel, feeling uncomfortable with the buzz coming from the streets outside and the dead silence in his car.

Without tearing his gaze from the street, Rick dropped his right hand from the steering wheel to the radio to turn it on, changing the station at least four times when a familiar guitar riff started to play as the broadcaster announced their third song from their _“Rock love songs”_ Especial.

Rick could almost hear Daryl snort in the passenger seat as he closed his eyes.

_“You serious?” Daryl had said, a playful smile dancing on his thin lips._

_Rick chuckled “What can I say? I love that song” he’d replied as he kept cutting carrots._

_Two months had passed since Daryl moved in with him and they soon fell into the routine of cooking while listening to music. “Rick’s fault” Daryl had said. Bon Jovi was now playing on their stereo._

_“Then I'm wrong, yeah I'm wrong_ ” _Rick kept singing, this time trying to impersonate the singer’s voice._

_“Ya keep doin’ that and ain’t helping ya with dinner” Daryl warned, now smiling openly at him._

_“C’mon, you’re loving it” Rick teased, putting the knife aside and drying his barely wet hands over his jeans. Daryl shook his head slowly, his hands busy with the dishes._

_The soft colors of the sunset coming through the window of the kitchen made Daryl’s hair glow with different shades of brown and Rick couldn’t help but think of a forest during autumn, feeling himself fall under a spell he was willing to._

_Shortening the distance between them, Rick wrapped his arms around Daryl’s waist from behind and buried his nose on the back of his neck._

_“You wanna make out to a Bon Jovi song?”  Daryl commented with a playful tone._

_“Got any suggestion?” Rick said, smiling against Daryl’s skin as he slipped up his hands under his shirt._

_Daryl turned around to face Rick and hooked his wet fingers on Rick’s belt loops “Scorpions ‘s way better”_

_Rick chuckled and leaned forward “We still got time” his lips met Daryl’s halfway._

A loud sound broke into his memories like thunder, pulling him out violently from his mind and out into his reality. Rick then could identify the sound as a car horn, coming incessantly from behind followed by a man shouting, the traffic lights had changed to green.

“Get the fuck out of the way, asshole!” The man yelled as he drove passed Rick.

The rest of his way back home was quiet as he drove out of town and through the dusty road with nothing but golden wheat fields and farms on each side, the random music playing on the radio now seemed like static to him as he kept drumming his fingers on the steering wheel instinctively.

It was already dark when Rick drove onto his driveway and turned off his car, walking towards the mailbox without any interest.

_Bills, bills, junk, bills, nothing._

Rick hated the way his eyes wandered through the mail with hopes of finding something that wasn’t there.

His heavy boots echoed on the wooden floor of the front porch when he crossed it and reached the door. The dead silence inside his house welcomed him, a small and intermittent red light shining in the darkness of his living room guided him to the answering machine, a message waiting for him.

 _“Rick?”_ Lori’s soft voice filled his house _“You there?”_ she asked carefully, waiting for an answer that never came.

Rick walked towards the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge when Lori proceeded with the message.

 _“I just wanted to know how your day went. Carl’s been worried ‘bout you, he wants to visit, maybe spend a couple of days there but I don’t know if...”_ She said, interrupting the last words with a deep sigh. _“I’m here, Rick, we’re here for you, we’re still your family.”_


End file.
